


imperfect

by herrscher



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: namely myself, yeah i am doing this, yeah im doing it to hurt people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 22:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17333909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herrscher/pseuds/herrscher
Summary: the mother of his memories is perfect. perhaps perfection as he sees it is unattainable;the mother he sees in his travels in time is far from perfect. but she tries.





	1. pensivity

in the form he takes, he can all but _be_ the child he once was, just short of cut-and-pasting himself into the fabric of spacetime itself. his eye certainly takes some explaining, but add plays it off as a side effect unexplainable of asker’s experimentation – the man can’t think of a reason for its existence, and that fact gives add – no, here, he is _edward_ – ample time beside her.

the only reason for his repeated attempts. the only reason for his form as it stands.

she seems more tired than she is in his memories, constantly happy and welcoming – was that always just an act for his sake, he wonders? when his father stopped his experiments on his son, did he then take his frustrations out on–?

no. the thought makes his blood boil, and grace notices his discomfort, easily detectable; he always has had a habit of fidgeting when his mind was preoccupied with thoughts he would rather have, and of course she would know. of course she would notice.

“edward?” he closes his eyes, stills, when he hears her voice. it took much time to find a way in which to interact; she isn’t _his_ grace, he knows that much, but...

this, at least, is a needed solace.

“yes, mother?” he glances up at her a moment later, and just as easily as he relaxes can he forget that he is no longer ten, and that this time is no longer his – that no time truly is, his existence tied to the flow of time itself more than any individual point.

“you seem distracted, dear. is something bothering you?” she reaches a hand over to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear with a smile, and he closes his eyes with a soft smile, leans his cheek against her hand, relishes in the pleased hum she gives in response.

“i’ll be alright. i’m... just thinking, that’s all.” is it right to lie to her? this universe’s edward is no longer, and he plays along as though he was meant to be here all along; how will she react in the morning where her son is no longer there? would asker take that out on her, as well?

he tenses, and she frowns.

“edward...” she moves to gently pick him up, place him in her lap, hold him to her chest. “you can speak to me about anything.”

 _anything?_ the concept as it is almost mocks him, the offer is not one meant for him nor is it one he should accept. that kind of understanding and acceptance...

he’s long since passed the threshold for that to be allowed for him. with as many timelines as he has personally seen to the destruction of...

how many times has he killed _her?_

he shudders.

“i don’t know if you would like what i would say, mother.” an honest response, for once, and surely one that is cryptic; she will not know the meaning, and she will never know it. as it is meant to be. “please don’t worry.”

“you know very well i can’t not worry about you. it’s a mother’s responsibility.” she presses a kiss to the top of his head, and he feels tears prick the corners of his eyes. why?

“i know.” he wills away the waver in his voice, leans his head against her shoulder. may she not notice his eyes as wet as they are, may she not notice the way his voice strains.

“... are you going to cry?” she curls protectively around him, slightly, and he sighs; he doesn’t want her to worry, doesn’t want her to hurt for him, but...

her voice is gentle. “please, edward, cry if you need to. it’s alright.”

and he accepts, allows himself to cry in her arms; the first time he allows himself to truly cry, and it’s in the arms of a mother that isn’t truly his.

he’s disgusted with himself and content at the same time. what a strange kind of emotion.

he sobs, and he’s an ugly crier, truly.

he allows himself to fall asleep in her arms like this, as though he were a child and she truly were his mother. perhaps he’ll spend more than just this time in this timeline.


	2. hesitancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it’s in his childhood bed that he finds himself awake, and immediately he feels out of place, as though he’s overstayed a welcome he was never offered to begin with, one he's snuck his way into attaining.

he is edward, but the edward of this time is not he. the innocence that a child should have is not something he himself has, anymore, and he knows painfully of that fact. his legs slide easily over the edge of the mattress, and he stares at his feet, dangling above the floor as he sits up. he knows the familiar scent of breakfast cooking, the idle conversation of mother and father, though now with the knowledge of the lack of innocence behind it. his mother is still a martyr in his eyes through and through, but he finds himself eavesdropping, ear pressed against his door, listening out into the manor.

“there’s no reason for the white of his eye to have changed color, and as... soon as it has, certainly.” asker’s voice is the loudest, and there’s the unmistakable sound of a coffee mug being not-so-gently set down upon the dinner table – he seems perturbed.

perhaps that’s for the best. this universe will see no destruction from you, but as uncomfortable as you can get your father, the better. as long as it doesn’t endanger –

“i’m sure it’s nothing serious.” she speaks softly, and add isn’t certain if that fact is because of the increased distance from the dinner table to the kitchen, or because she wills her voice to be so. his fingers itch at his sides as she speaks, because he knows that she’s lying through her teeth.

there’s no doubt she knows the monster that her husband is, and edward – no, add – knows it all the same as well.

“it shouldn’t have any effect on him, right? if nothing shows up on your testing... then, it’s surely benign.” a sigh of relief from grace. “i know that you’re more concerned about your...” she seems to falter for a moment before finding the proper word, “... _trials,_ but i’m sure that if you showed more concern for his wellbeing rather than what you’re doing – “

“he doesn’t require any concern of mine, grace. i have more important things to attend to, as do you. whatever happens to him is unrelated and has no effect on myself or my research.” he cuts her off with that, and add hears the movement of a chair and the lift of the coffee mug, before steps past his bedroom and toward his father’s research lab accompanied by the sound of a closing door reaches his ears.

he hates this man so much, and to rebuff his wife, the woman he should love –!

add’s concern is not on himself. it never is. there’s the telltale sign of a sigh coming from the kitchen and grace speaks to herself, all but drowned out by the sounds of her preparing breakfast.

“... i wish he would show more concern for edward. he’s our son...”

add hesitates to open the door to the bedroom, to head out into the kitchen, but his body acts almost on autopilot, feet carrying him out past the living room and towards the kitchen, stopping just short of grace, and just before she opens her mouth as though to speak to herself again, she looks down.

and she smiles.

“good morning, edward. did you sleep alright?” as a child, he might not have seen the exhaustion in her face, heard the way that her voice falters, as she tries to play the part of a mother unaffected by her husband’s seeming lack of concern for a child both of them have the responsibility to raise and nurture, to love.

“i suppose i did.” he doesn’t mean to worry her, but can’t lie to her, just the same. he exists separate from time itself, and sleeping isn’t part of things that he’s found yourself capable of doing, even if he tries his hardest to do so. her lips press into a line, but she doesn’t seem to press the issue, merely redirecting herself to the stove.

“go ahead and sit down, dear. breakfast will be done soon.”

he takes that offer, pulls out one of the chairs, seats himself and watches her. her actions are languid, and he wants to ask why that is, if she’s been overworking herself, if she’s been more concerned with his safety and wellbeing than her own.

but that wouldn’t be right for a child to ask of a parent.

so he doesn’t.

“you look sad.” that’s the simplest way he thinks he can put it, to show the concern he has for her without seeming beyond his years, as he truly is. she stills for a moment, hesitates with her actions for just a second before she laughs, shakes her head.

“do i? perhaps i am a bit disappointed, but...” she looks to the side, as if trying to understand the situation fully. “edward, dear, are you asking because you overheard what your father and i talking?”

he hesitates to nod, but after a moment, nods all the same.

he really can’t lie to her.

she frowns, but she turns off the stove, moves over to him and wraps her arms gently around his shoulders, pulls him close. to think that she believes him more deserving of compassion and understanding at a moment like this...

were he truly _him_ , perhaps that would stand true.

“i’m sorry that you had to hear that. i’m certain your father doesn’t mean what he says, he’s just a bit frustrated and stubborn. he cares very much about you, edward.”

add know he cares. but he cares for the wrong reason; he cares about him like how a scientist researching something cares about a lab rat – excited at success, disappointed by failure, and impassive upon a death that he himself has caused.

he’s long since known his importance to asker was no more than that, and no less.

“i know, mother.” his arms loop carefully around her, palms pressed to her shoulders, and he knows she smiles by the small laugh she gives at the action – his arms are small in this form, and his hands even smaller.

“i’m glad. you shouldn’t need to worry about either of us, it’s our job to be worried about you.” a gentle kiss to his forehead as she brushes his bangs to the side, and just as quickly as she hugs him, she pulls away.

she seems happier. perhaps the hug was something she needed, too.

“well, then.” she lets out a small sigh, turning back to the breakfast on the stove. “what would you like to eat, edward?”

* * *

 

the rest of the day passes as would be normal for childhood; she is the emotional support for him as she has always been, and his day ends, after tests and his father’s insistence on him remaining past daily benchmarks for his progression, studies of asker’s experiments, with him seated in grace’s greenhouse, surrounded by the flowers she so loves.

were he to go to this place in the future, in his own time, he wonders – would it be destroyed, not a thing left to remain, or would it have overgrown the glass cage, survived as the only legacy of her research?

perhaps he’ll look into it, when he returns to his – current – time.

but for now, he falls asleep with his head on grace’s lap, her voice lulling him to sleep, as he’d spent the years away from her dreaming of.

**Author's Note:**

> i blame mother mother's entire discography thank you for coming to my ted talk
> 
> scream at me on twitter @zerinnen


End file.
